


Papillio (fragile wings)

by salytierra (octavaluna)



Series: Empires of the Sun [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical Hetalia, Human & Country Names Used, Iberian Brothers, M/M, Minor Character Death, first in a series, free interpretation of character ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/pseuds/salytierra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Romans associated butterflies with the souls of the dead. But to Portugal, they are a reminder of times long past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papillio (fragile wings)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a first of a short spaport series that I'm writing between study sessions. Rating will go up. 
> 
> Nicolau is my fanpicked name for Portugal. (I like the sound and it means "people's triumph")

 

**April 2016**

 

“What?” Antonio asks, arching one eyebrow. He looks good, Nicolau thinks. Healthy and well-rested, just the right amount of sunny tan, not burned, not too pale. And there’s a light in his eyes and a butterfly in his hair.

Portugal hums and extends his hand over the table, but before he can touch it the butterfly flies away, both brothers following it with their eyes.

“These butterflies. They haven’t changed in over two thousand years.”

Toño snorts, pushing the ice around his empty glass with the straw “This is why you were so distracted today? We haven’t seen each other in almost a month and all you can pay attention to are butterflies?”

“You say that like it’s a record time.” Port rolls his eyes. But then his expression softens, raising his hand again to pull a strand of Spain’s hair away from his eyes, rubbing his thumb gently over his eyebrow.

“Nico, are you okay?” Antonio asks gently, covering his brother’s hand with his own, to which the other nation shakes his head lightly.

“Yeah, just… remembering, I guess.”

  
  
***

**May 19 B.C.**

 

“Brother wait for me!” A tiny child cried out, waving his short, chubby arms as his baby legs did their best to move after the slightly older boy. Of course he fell on his ass after barely a few steps, disturbing a group of butterflies relaxing among the flowers. Instead of crying he giggled, trying to grab the colourful insects as they dodged his little hands and several landed on his hair, one even on his nose, batting its wings lazily.

The elder boy laughed too, a few steps away, watching his sibling.

 

“Lusitania” a soft voice called after him and when he turned around his face fell.

Their mother stood at the edge of the clearing, one of her arms wrapped around her middle and her green eyes dark and sad. “Lusitania come here” She called again and so he did, running towards her and clasping at the soles of her furs. With a notable effort she sunk down to her knees and held him close, crying silently.

“Oh my child” she whispered, drawing away just to give him a long kiss on the forehead. She smelled like bronze.

“Something bad is about to happen,” She finally said, holding him by the shoulders, making him look her in the eyes “and you have to promise me that no matter what happens you will take care of your brother. Always take care of your brother, and teach him to take care of yourself. Promise me.”

Lusitania, could only nod, not really understanding what did she mean.

 

But he did understand when a few days later instead of her it was a tall man in foreign clothing who came looking for them. Rome was his name, and he was to be obeyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider commenting and/or leaving kudos. They are wonderful ao3 features that feed the writer's starving soul  
> [I've got a tumblr](http://salytierra.tumblr.com)♥


End file.
